First You Must Learn Self-Control - And It Builds From There
by Gabriel Seraph
Summary: Ms. Shaw needs to learn that homicidal urges are a Very Bad Thing - and who better to teach her than the dreaded killer Dexter Morgan? One-shot inspired by a cute little moment in PoI 3x04 "Reasonable Doubt." Weird humor, brief heavy language. Spoilers for Dexter's finale (which I have not seen yet!)


AN: This is a cracked little one-shot that came into my mind while watching the most recent PoI episode "Reasonable Doubt." It will end hilariously and quite unusually. You've been warned.

Logic? I don't need no stinking logic! Sanity-free storytelling, that's the order of the day from me!

R&R and enjoy!

First You Must Learn Self-Control...And It Builds From There.

Mr. Finch paused the video on the big screen and surveyed Ms. Shaw sternly through his horn-rims. In the video, Shaw had gotten really angry at a highly computer-illiterate old man. Finch had felt some sympathy for the poor man, especially given how unaware he was that Shaw had pulled a pen out of the holder on his desk and was on the point of jamming it straight into his carotid. Luckily, Fusco had been there to restrain her. "Whoa there," he'd said. "Stabbing a senior, that's a new low for you."

Finch spoke up at last. "Shaw, you have to realize that by working for us, you knowingly subject yourself to the Machine's viewing pleasure," he said. "Even on, shall we say, quirky semi-science-fiction TV shows."

Shaw sneered. "So I got pissed. So what?"

"Well, we can't really have you threatening to lose control at any moment like that," said Mr. Reese. "So we called in an expert to help train you. Mr. Morgan, if you please."

A tall brown-haired man entered the room. "This is Dexter Morgan," said Finch. "No relation." Dexter chuckled for no reason, then Finch went on, "He has developed a particular way of dealing with homicidal urges, which he suffers from himself."

"Yes, I had an awful childhood that turned me into a sociopathic serial killer, blah blah blah," said Dexter, who looked distinctly disinterested in the whole proceedings. "Luckily I had a foster father who recognized the signs and worked to shape me into a do-good machine. I only kill people who deserve it. All because of the Harry Code."

"The Harry Code?" asked Shaw.

Dexter nodded. "Yes. Basically, it boils down to this - only kill bad people."

"You mean, like rapists?" Dexter nodded to Shaw. "Child molesters?" Another nod. "People who talk at the theater?"

"I guess, yeah," said Dexter.

Reese disappeared around the corner and popped back in again. "The special hell," he intoned dramatically. Finch barely stifled a giggle; he too remembered the peculiar little scene from that old space western show that Fusco had somehow addicted Reese, Shaw, and Carter to.

"But you have to do it in secret, right?" Shaw asked. "So what happens if people find out?"

"Usually, I kill them," said Dexter.

"And they've done something bad, usually, right?"

"Well, not always," said Dexter. "There _was_ my poor sister..."

"So she did only one bad thing - discover your secret and threaten to snitch?" Shaw chuckled. "Some self-control expert you are. You're as much of a monster as the people you say you kill."

Dexter's eyebrows flickered. "It's not that simple. Sometimes, the situation isn't that black and white. It's more grey and grey."

"But who killed their sister for discovering their secret again?" Reese asked. "Right. Sounds pretty damn childish to me."

Dexter at this point threw up his hands, but his voice grew suspiciously calm. "I surrender. I can't train you people. You clearly haven't grown up in a cable-drama world like I have. Ain't this a metric fuckton of wasted time. You know what, guy? Maybe you're right. Maybe I am childish. Maybe I do kill people for no reason. Like I'm about to kill you right now."

"I don't think so," said Reese. "Bear? _Bestormen_!"

Instantly, a big dog charged into the room and leaped onto Dexter's chest, pinning him to the ground and taking his neck in his jaws. Bear bit down very slightly, not enough to puncture the skin, but enough to signal to the cornered killer that he meant business.

"Mission accomplished," said Shaw. "God, I hate saying that. So hackneyed."

"But appropriate," said Finch. The phone rang and he answered it. After hanging up, he announced to the room at large, "We got another number. A man at a pumpkin patch in Yonkers. He's apparently dropkicking pumpkins over the fence and threatening to destroy every single one of them. It seems he's dissatisfied with their level of service."

"Or perhaps the prices," Shaw said. "I overheard that Batista guy complaining about the pumpkins being an big overpriced capitalistic money grab."

"Batista was here?" Dexter asked.

"Shut up," said Shaw. "Just know that he's the one who told us to be on the lookout for you."

"Should've known he'd be the one to trap me in the end," grumbled Dexter under his breath.

"This kinda sounds like a sitcom moment," said Reese. "Overpriced pumpkins being serious business. Like-"

"Not that silly junior college show," muttered Finch. "Where does Fusco pick up on these miscreations?"

Reese smiled. "This one was actually recommended by Carter's kid. Trust me, it's very much fun. Gives you a childlike sense of wonder, seeing a world where everything and nothing is serious and life's all just a long-form fantasy. It's a nice escape after a long day." He turned to Bear and said, "_Sleuren_!" Then he grinned as Bear dragged Dexter by the neck, slowly but surely, out the door and into the elevator, where Carter was waiting to slap the cuffs on him and read him his rights.

-THE END-


End file.
